Can We Talk?
by 2queens1prince
Summary: A little bit of teen angst and some reflection. More than a drabble, less than a one shot. Maybe a ficlet. Is that a thing?


AN: To drabble or not to drabble? That is the question. I come offering a short piece that came to me the other day and niggled in the back of my mind until I was forced to write it. I hope you enjoy.

"Mom, why not?" Stevie leaned into the island invading Elizabeth's space.

Elizabeth sighed and turned toward her daughter. "I've already explained why. Tomorrow is your birthday dinner. It's been planned for a while. I'm sure your father will make enough that Stacey and Melissa could join us if you want to celebrate with them as well."

"Argh," Stevie groaned. "That's the whole thing. I want to celebrate with them. I want to go to the movies. I don't want to be stuck here playing go fish with Ali and Jace. I'm fifteen Mom. I want to go and do other things. This sucks. I hate this. I hate you."

Stevie suddenly shoved herself away from the island and tore through the living room and up the stairs. "Almost fifteen," Elizabeth mumbled. She pinched the bridge of her nose and willed tears not to fall. Stevie didn't know what she was doing-just like she hadn't known.

Dinner was stilted. Stevie refused to come down. Ali and Jace wanted to know what was going on, and "your sister isn't feeling well" didn't cut it. Both could sense the tension from both Stevie and their mother and it fed into the general feeling of everyone being unsettled. After their regular Friday evening movie, Elizabeth shooed both kids up to their rooms and tidied up the downstairs.

She moved about the living room straightening magazines, picking up Jason's dirty socks and returning the remotes to the top of the TV. Elizabeth knew she shouldn't be this emotional about the spat she and Stevie had. Stevie was fifteen. Elizabeth checked her watch, well in eleven hours Stevie would be fifteen. Fifteen year olds said all kinds of things. But, the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach wouldn't go away. Elizabeth headed upstairs.

An hour later, Henry opened the front door and shuffled in with his luggage, briefcase and jacket thrown over his arm. He released a sigh of relief as he fell against the door, letting his belongings slide off his arms. He looked around, expecting to see Elizabeth, but she didn't appear in the doorway.

He moved quietly through the downstairs, flipping off lights, wondering about Elizabeth. It wasn't usually like her to go upstairs for the evening without shutting everything off before she went up. Stepping into their bedroom, his eyes narrowed. Their bed was still made. He stepped into their bathroom, which was empty as well. He poked his head into Jason and Allison's rooms and found them sleeping soundly.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he opened Stevie's door and found Elizabeth sitting at her bedside. She appeared to be lost in thought, gently stroking Stevie's hair. Henry quietly came up behind her. "Babe, is everything okay?"

Elizabeth reached up and covered his hand, which was placed on her shoulder. "Stevie told me she hated me today." She sat silent for a moment. Henry gripped her shoulder a little tighter and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

"She didn't mean it," Henry said reassuringly.

"I know," Elizabeth whispered. She suddenly turned to Henry. "She needs to know that I know."

Henry pulled her from the bed. "Let's go, before we wake her." Fingers linked together, Henry ushered Elizabeth to their bedroom..

"Now, what are you saying?"

Elizabeth slumped down on the end of the bed, suddenly exhausted. "Stevie. If something happens to me. She needs to know that I know she didn't mean it-when she said she hated me. She'll carry all of that guilt around, and she doesn't need to. I understand. You'll make sure she knows that it's okay and that I love her, won't you?" Elizabeth caught Henry's fingers once more and looked up at him.

He could see the desperation in her eyes. "Hey, Babe. Stop. Stevie knows you love her. And nothing is going to happen to you." Henry tried to pull her close, but she resisted.

"No she won't. I know she won't, because I didn't. That morning before they died, I told Mom I hated her, and in that moment, I swore I did. She was so rigid and refused to give, even just a little bit. I felt strangled and I did. In that moment, I hated her. Then when I calmed down, I just couldn't bring myself to apologize. It was dumb and prideful. Just after they left, I told myself that when they returned, I'd apologize over my milkshake. And then she never came home."

Henry fell to his knees and swept her into a tight hug. He felt the tears wet his t-shirt and he didn't let her go. Waiting until she'd calmed, he spoke softly. "She knew you didn't really mean it and she still loved you."

Elizabeth extricated herself from his grip. How can you say that? You don't know."

"But I do. Look at you. You know that Stevie is young and impulsive. She spoke before she had a chance to calm down and think rationally-just like someone else I know." He nudged her a bit.

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Your mom knew, just like you know." She gave him a look that said she wasn't fully buying it. "I'm sure of it." He threaded his fingers into her hair and pulled her closer, kissing her softly. Then he stood.

"Let's go to bed." She nodded and let him pull her up. When they were tucked in close to each other, he back against his chest, she whispered, "Thank you."

Henry said nothing, but kissed her shoulder.

The next day, Elizabeth was downstairs fixing a cup of coffee when she heard the soft thump of bare feet coming down the stairs. She turned to catch her oldest pivoting to go back up the stairs.

"Happy birthday."

Stevie stopped mid-turn and took that in for a moment before starting back to her room. Elizabeth acted on instinct. She wasn't ever going to let it be the same. "Hey Stevie, wait. Can we talk?"


End file.
